2 comments/ 15453 views/ 16 favorites Fifty Shades of Black By: younghungblack Having just hung her skirt on the hook in the changing booth of the clothing store, Carol stood naked save her bikini panties. "Carol?" The voice boomed like the speaker were using a bullhorn. Immediately, a lump formed in Carol's throat. A million thoughts raced through her mind. Who was calling her? Who even knew she was there? What did they want? Then, to things more consequential. What if he peeked in on her? What if he entered the booth? Why hadn't she worn a bra today? Why hadn't she put the new blouse on as soon as she'd removed the old one? Why had she chosen to disrobe so completely? She stood trembling, frozen with fear, her nipples fossilized. She held her breath hoping whoever had called her wouldn't know she was there. Her name boomed again. It sounded like he was right outside the curtain. Should she answer? She didn't have time. The curtain was swept aside. Nearly-naked Carol, on display for any eye that cared to take her in. One arm flew up to cover her breasts; the other was dispatched assist the translucent pink panties in shielding something even more precious. It's difficult to say which was more shocked. The proper British mum standing half-naked in public or the young black man standing bug-eyed, ogling her. He spoke first. "You're not Carol." "I - I..." Carol began before realizing she had no idea how to finish her sentence. Her mind spun wildly as it tried to gain sufficient traction to formulate a thought. Again, he made the first move. Placing two fingers on the arm protecting her breasts, he pressed down gently and Carol permitted the greater exposure having her arm at her side rather than shielding her assets provided. The young man stared and for reasons she couldn't explain or even understand, Carol became excited. His gaze moved to the hand still covering her pussy. Her excitement built. His eyes moved to hers then back to that hand making Carol feel uncomfortable denying the handsome, exotic youth intimate visual access to her body. She lowered the hand and stood before him, hands at her sides, curtain agape. "There you are, Bl...," were the next words Carol heard as the most beautiful, caramel-colored girl she'd ever seen sauntered into view. Actually, that's not entirely accurate. The girl was the most beautiful person Carol had ever seen, regardless of color. That she also happened to be a mouth-watering shade of brown tinted gold wasn't germane to that. "Blaine!" Caramel Carol shrieked. "What are you doing? People can see in..." and the privacy curtain swung shut as abruptly as it had opened. But not before Proper Mum Carol regained enough composure to look out, into the store, to check for peepers. Sure enough a pasty-faced, pudgy, balding man was enjoying the show Carol unintendedly offered. A troubling sense of recognition came over Carol but she couldn't quite place the man. Worse, a similar, knowing flicker registered in his leering eyes. Fortunately, a woman (his wife?), who appeared to be the man's identical twin in drag, ushered him away leaving only speculation about who may have witnessed her embarrassment for poor Carol. She could only hope he'd seen enough to know she'd been the victim of her lascivious display and not its perpetrator. Still, the oddest part of the whole episode, to this point at least, was that Caramel Carol had drawn the curtain with she and Blaine inside the change room with Carol rather than outside where they logically belonged. Now, two young Americans lingered at their "private" showing of Carol's nearly nude body. Carol's immediate thought was to again strategically deploy her upper limbs in an improvised modesty defense. But abandoned her posturing when she saw Blaine, almost imperceptibly, shake his head no. Carol remained with her hands fidgeting nervously at her sides. "We're so sorry," Caramel Carol sympathized. "You must be so embarrassed. I have no idea what I'd do if I were in your place. I'm sorry...I'm Carol, by the way. I can't believe we didn't introduce ourselves. Um, this is Blaine which you may have gathered already." Clearly the younger woman was flustered as she held out her hand to Carol. For some reason, unknown to her, Carol shook the offered hand like they'd just been introduced at the opera and not as a naked matron sharing a dressing room with a couple of leering foreigners. Carol's confusion continued unabated but her trepidation began to ease when her loins reacted positively to her condition. She felt a smile trying to form on her lips when she realized the effect her nudity was having on these young strangers. What should have been the most horrifying encounter of her life was turning out to be anything but as she found Blaine as exciting as his companion was comforting. Still, standing before a pair of young adults in nothing more substantial than a pair of flimsy knickers was too unseemly even for Carol's heightened arousal to justify. Fortunately, the brevity of their encounter was such that a rapid return to greater normalcy might yet salvage the better part of her dignity. "I...uh... think I'd better get dressed," Carol said with a shy smile, reaching for her blouse. "Why?" blurted Caramel Carol with genuine incredulity. "I mean, you're beautiful. Isn't she, Blaine?" Young Blaine did naught but stand, stare, and nod as Carol turned turned bright crimson. She felt the flush rush to her face and silently cursed her mother for passing down the blushing gene. Blaine and Caramel Carol were treated to the sight of something even those most familiar with Carol's famed propensity to redden didn't know. When she blushed her breasts turned a rosy hue. "Oh, god, you're making me blush," Carol stammered as she fanned herself with her hand. But, just as she felt the color begin to drain, Blaine cupped a breast, brushing his index finger over the nipple. "Blaine!" yelped Caramel Carol for the second time in a span scarcely sufficient to include an introduction let alone an introduction and a groping. She slapped at her boyfriend's hand causing him to withdraw it but scratching her nail across Carol's engorged nipple in the process. "Ouch!" Carol winced involuntarily, using her hand to cover her wound. "I'm sooo sorry," Caramel Carol offered sincerely, pushing Carol's hand away and using her own to soothe the pretty blonde more than old enough to be her mother. "Let me," Caramel Carol continued, "I've just graduated nursing school." Disturbingly, Carol found the young womans's soft caresses mildly arousing. Carol involuntarily licked her lips as her nipple hardened and began to throb deliciously. Now she had been groped by both strangers. This had turned into a most unexpected day and, unbeknownst to her then, what had transpired already was mild in comparison to what was yet to come. "Feel better?" Caramel Carol asked hopefully, removing her hands from Carol's breast. A raised red mark could be clearly seen traversing Carol's once again milky skin from one side of her wide nipple to the other. "I'm fine," Carol smiled, reaching again for her blouse. "You've both been sweet and, uh...well, exciting. Oh god, I shouldn't have said that. Now I'm going to blush again." Fortunately the Americans ignored her new, self-induced embarrassment. "Let us take you to lunch!" Caramel Carol chirped, delighting at finding a way to repay the older woman's kind forbearances. "You weren't going anywhere special, were you? I mean you weren't shopping for a new outfit for a special occasion were you?" "No," Carol confessed, "just out window shopping...more or less." "Great!" exclaimed Caramel Carol, "and before you say no, um...just say yes. Yeah, that's it just say yes. We're fun, I promise...well, except for him," she smiled offering a well placed jerk of the head in Blaine's direction. "Seriously, let us make it up to you. It'll be our treat. You have to admit you can't beat the price. Please say yes." And so it was that the soon-to-be-exiting-her-forties blonde British mother of two found herself seated in a quiet, dimly lit, corner of a deserted English pub with two Americans of another generation and another race. Later, thinking back, Carol convinced herself that the wine had something to do with it but that was simply because blaming alcohol was an easier and safer confession than admitting that horniness and ego likely played an even biggers role in something she no doubt would have enjoyed even cold sober. That would have required her to confirm that she shared her somewhat bland existence with another Carol, a baser, sluttier Carol, a Carol she preferred not to disturb, to ignore, to hide. A Carol she only acknowledged late at night, in her bed, in her imagination, with her fingers, her vibrators, her dildo. "How old do you have to be to drink in England?" Caramel Carol whispered to Carol as the trio entered the pub. "Eighteen, I believe," Carol answered feeling suddenly old at no longer knowing or caring what the age of majority might be. "Great!" enthused Caramel Carol. "May I start you with a drink?" the waitress asked, finally fixing her eyes on Carol when Blaine held out his hand toward her, signalling that she should order first. "Chilled white wine," Carol ordered, then felt slightly foolish when Blaine ordered a Coke and Caramel Carol a Diet Coke. "I thought you were..." Carol began before letting her voice trail off. "...drinking?" asked Caramel Carol, finishing the sentence. "Well, yes," Carol admitted. "No, we rarely drink...but you should. You need to loosen up." Caramel Carol smiled to display her jest but Carol had already begun her reply. "Me? I need to loosen up? You two have already seen me naked AND felt me up." Carol had been prepared to continue but stopped when she realized Caramel Carol was pulling her leg. "Half naked," Caramel Carol corrected with a smile. "And if you think you were felt up, we need the waitress to leave the bottle. Loosen up Carol. Have some fun." Two hours later Carol was on her second bottle of champagne and the "kids" were still drinking soda. The young Americans had learned a few things about England and Carol had learned that Yankee youth were incredibly less inhibited than she. But even armed with the knowledge of the current state of youth reserve, or lack thereof, even in her own "loosened up" frame of mind, Carol was completely unprepared for Caramel Carol's next question. "Do you like sucking cock?" Caramel Carol asked as naturally as one might inquire the time. Carol sputtered and Caramel Carol continued as though the question had been rhetorical. "Here's the thing," Caramel Carol continued, "Blaine and I have this sort of bet going on. It's about cocksucking and, well, you seem a bit submissive, or maybe you're just shy, I don't know. Anyway, if you're the submissive sort, you probably like eating a dick, you know, being of service to the guy, so I thought I'd get your opinion on this cocksucking question we've been debating. Want to hear it?" Carol felt herself rapidly moistening and reddening at this new line of discussion but she couldn't bring herself to answer Caramel Carol's last question directly. "Do I really seem submissive to you?" she asked instead. Carol did have a submissive side that she tried to keep well hidden. She often wondered how some men, particularly those she didn't know well, picked up on it. She especially wondered how this rather precocious young woman could see that in her. "Well, you were quite passive in that changing room. You've been letting me drive the conversation. You've come here with us despite your better judgement. You're continuing to drink even though we aren't. No doubt you thought about changing your mind when you heard us order Coke but didn't because we urged against it. Even my direct question you're reticent to answer. Yes, Carol, you seem quite submissive which leads me to conclude that you're also an enthusiastic cocksucker. Now take a big gulf of champagne and tell us whether or not you want to hear the question." Carol stared at the table for several seconds before lifting her glass and draining its contents. She remained silent, however. "I suppose that will do as a 'yes,'" Caramel Carol continued, cupping her hand under Carol's chin and lifting her face. Just before removing her hand, Caramel Carol inserted a finger between Carol's lips and felt the mature blonde tenderly caress it with her tongue. "Mmmm," Caramel Carol sighed as she dragged her finger out of Carol's sucking mouth. "You're going to like this one, baby," she said patting her virile, youthful companion on his hand. "The only question really is, will it fit?" Carol was now so a prisoner of her desire. She no longer cared that these two strangers were carrying on a sexual conversation as if her participation was assumed rather than still in question. Just what, precisely, would happen she had no real idea but the facts were that cocksucking was being discussed, a woman's caramel colored digit had just been in her mouth, and now whether something would fit somewhere was being called into question. Even inebriated Carol could still put two and two and two together. "It won't have to fit if she picks Option B," Blaine said, his first words since exposing Carol in the changing room. "Like that's going to happen," Caramel Carol chuckled, then returned her attention to Carol. "This one likes his knob polished. Big surprise, huh? What does surprise me a little is there seems to be such a never ending supply of eager women with polishing tongues. Women, frankly, like you, Carol. Do you know why that is? And no, that's still not the question. I'm just curious, that's all. I'll let you know when it's really the question. I mean if he let you, you'd suck old Blaine here off, right." Carol's brain had gone on information overload. What the hell did Caramel Carol mean if Blaine let her? Did he commonly turn down requests from women requesting to suck his dick? If there was such a man who'd refuse a blowjob, Carol had yet to meet him. "Yeah, he gets lots of offers," Caramel Carol said like she'd just read Carol's mind. "Pretty simple, really." There are two universally understood gestures women use to convey a certain intimate attribute of a man. In one, she holds her thumb and index finger an inch or two apart. Pity the fellow who draws that response. He's likely to do his best work with his tongue. At the other extreme, she holds her hands, palms facing each other, an impressive distance apart. Blessed is he who moves women lewdly thus. It was this gesture Caramel Carol offered Carol by way of explanation for why Blaine enjoyed such a seemingly large choice of women. Except her hands were clownishly far apart. Surely Caramel Carol was caricaturizing Blaine's endowment. It was at that moment that the waitress reappeared to assess the drinks situation. A black youth, a pretty mulatto, and a mature beauty sat in a circular booth. A fading, middle-aged waitress who'd spent an adult lifetime making a living off her looks, who still produced a burning passion in the desperate, stood. And every eye was focused on Caramel Carol's indecent gesture. "Interested?" Caramel Carol asked the waitress, but she scurried away. "I know what you're thinking," Caramel Carol said, returning her attention to Carol. "'No way!' am I right? No way he's that big. Go ahead, judge for yourself. Feel it, Blaine won't mind." There were few things Carol would have rather done at that moment than to caress Blaine's crotch, but circumstances augured against it: the troubling differential in their ages and their races (Carol had no experiences with Negroes), the general lack of familiarity with this couple, the public venue, and the oh so out-of-character nature of the request itself. "Help her, Blaine," Caramel Carol beseeched when Carol hesitated. Carol felt as if her wrist had been clamped in a steel vise when Blaine grabbed her. He moved her hand in the direction of his lap. She initially thought of fighting him but quickly understood the futility of resistance. A liquid explosion in her personal Netherlands when Blaine brought her hand in contact with his cock forced Carol to close her eyes, bite her lip, and breathe deeply through flared nostrils. She was now willingly cupping a black man's crotch. Carol had known of the appeal submission held for a woman even before shades of gray was a topic of adult conversation. She knew that men were blunt, women subtle. She understood oxymorons like leading from behind and passive aggression. She knew the way to control someone like Blaine was to yield to him. Carol wanted to continue watching her hand caress Blaine's covered cock but the same hand that had imprisoned her wrist now clutched her hair. Her head was being twisted, her face brought to Blaine's. The kiss was almost innocent...until it wasn't. Almost tender...until his passion flared, hoisting hers along with his. Carol felt something too impossibly long to be a tongue snake into her mouth. Momentarily, she thought Blaine might gag her with it. She began sucking it as if it were his cock. In fact, she was certain she had blown men of lesser endowment. All the while, she stroked something between Blaine's legs that felt too impossibly big to be a cock. Blaine pulled away leaving Carol panting for breath. She tried to reengage his mouth but he turned away. Suddenly Carol was sure that Caramel Carol's caveat "if he lets you suck his cock" was no misstatement. There was a chance, she realized, that this young stud might deny her that privilege. Carol was thoroughly confused. Never had she considered the possibility of a man refusing to get blown. She was reminded of a joke she'd once heard. A woman found herself alone in an elevator with a handsome movie star. She turned to the star and told him, "I could kneel down right here, right now and give you a magnificent blowjob." "I'm sure you could," he replied, "but what would I get out of it?" Carol wondered, if she blew Blaine right then, what he'd get out of it. He could have any number of women begging to suck him off. What was special about her? Why should she be the one swallowing his load? In her confused state, it began to dawn on her that, should she suck Blaine's cock, it wouldn't be Carol doing Blaine the a favor, not the other way around. That realization made Carol quiver. In the space of a single second she'd become desperate to suck off young Blaine, and, unbeknownst to her at the time, that would become a problem for her. "Take it out," Carol heard dimly, through the fog enveloping her brain. "Go ahead, you know you want to." It was Caramel Carol ordering her to do something. The words were both ambiguous and stunningly clear at the same time. "Ambiguous clarity," there's an oxymoron, Carol thought. 'Take what out?' Carol wanted to ask but knew the question was unnecessary. There was no confusion about what 'it' was or where 'out' was. The only real confusion Carol had was did Caramel Carol mean right there, at the pub. Would Blaine permit it? And forget Blaine, she, herself, was not prepared to engage in some form of pub dogging. Deep down, Carol was certain this was some sort of tease these two were perpetrating. Perhaps she was the mark in some x-rated game show. Perhaps her friends Helen and Sarah were preparing to jump out at any second shouting "Surprise!" It didn't matter really, she was enjoying having her pleasure cauldron bubble like this. Later, at home alone, she would have even greater fun. Carol made a mental note to pick up fresh batteries. It was going to be a long night. "Do you like spankings?" Caramel Carol asked out of the blue. "What?" Carol asked, completely confused. "Spankings. Do you like them? I'm speaking of a proper spanking, over a man's knee, skirt up, panties down, genuine stinging swats meant to bring a woman to heel. That kind of spanking." Fifty Shades of Black "I-I don't know. I've never had one." It was true, she hadn't, but that didn't mean she hadn't thought of them, hadn't become excited reading stories about them, hadn't jilled-off imagining them. "So, you in the might like to try one phase?" "I don't know...why are you asking all this?" Carol asked. "Because," Caramel Carol answered, "I told you to do something and you haven't done it. Blaine takes offense when a mature woman, a woman who should know better, doesn't do as she's told." "I think I want to leave," asserted Carol, suddenly eager to get home to her vibrators. "That's not one of the choices," Caramel Carol growled. "You can either take it out now, or, get spanked then take it out. Those are your choices." "Well, I'm not taking it out, that's for sure," Carol asserted, trying to sound authoritative. Blaine was quick as a cat and strong as an bull. Carol was scooped up, spun around, and over Blaine's lap facing the floor before she realized it was happening. She tried to free herself but Blaine pinned her hands behind her back and Caramel Carol held her head. She felt her skirt being raised and her knickers lowered. The first slap sounded like a cannon blast echoing throughout the pub. The two employees at the bar jerked their heads in the direction of the booth. A second smack, a second echo. The bartender dispatched the waitress to see what was going on. Swats three and four thundered as the waitress made her way to the booth. Even in the dim light, she could see the pink glow adorning Carol's bare buttocks. "Is there something I can help you with?" the waitress asked. "I think we have it under control," Caramel Carol smiled. "Just keep it down," the waitress cautioned. Two more swats rang out as she made her way back to the bar. Then silence again. Carol's head and hands were released. She was struggling, shifting her weight in preparation to rise when she felt another stinging slap, this time from a smaller hand. "Hurry it the fuck up," Caramel Carol hissed. "Pull up your fucking panties for heavens sake. You'd better not be getting cunt slobber on his slacks." "Too late," Blaine smirked, pointing at the wet stain decorating his crotch. "She came?" Caramel Carol yelped. "Looks that way," Blaine answered. "Damn it, I knew it. She's such a fucking cunt," Caramel Carol continued. It was true. Carol had known it immediately when it happened, of course. Now these two knew as well. Just when it seemed her humiliations could degrade her no further, something new, something even more debasing arrived to convince her otherwise. She had been thoroughly embarrassed when Blaine barged into her changing booth. When she'd tried to cover her nakedness, the youth made her remove her hands. It wasn't all him. Carol was complicit as well. She'd stood by, seemingly powerless to do otherwise, as the black ogled her naked breasts. Except she wasn't powerless. She wanted him to look as much as he did. Maybe more. She just didn't want him to know. When he felt her naked chest, she was proud that her nipple hardened. Her body was telling Blaine she like being controlled. In a way she wanted him to know that so he'd do more of it. She'd felt him, too. And kissed him. The sexual forces in play were driving her insane. The tension was so tangible it could have been an item on the menu. She'll have another scoop of the sexual tension, please. Now this. Climaxing just from getting spanked. Her wantonness despoiling a young man's clothing. She felt it happening. Each swat pushing her closer and closer to the orgasmic abyss. She knew her eruption was exceptionally messy. She felt herself explode passed her labia. Her panties could offer no barrier of containment. Those were around her ankles. And Blaine and Caramel Carol knew she'd cum too. "How embarrassing," muttered Caramel Carol as she shook her head. "What a slut!" Carol was now in desperate straits. Everything that should offend her deeply heightened her arousal instead. She'd just been spanked! On her bare bottom! In public! And she'd cum! Now she was being called a slut! To her face! By virtual kids! She knew her face was bright red but there was nothing she could do about it. The excitement was bewildering. Carol couldn't think straight. "...the fuck? Is something wrong with her?" Caramel Carol continued, pronouncing the phrase with a silent "what" further confusing Carol. In her post-orgasmic haze, she felt her nipples harden again. So soon after cumming. What was to become of her? "Sweetie...hello?" Caramel Carol mocked, snapping her fingers in front of Carol's face like a hypnotist bringing a subject out of a trance. Carol's eyes began to focus. Was she in trouble? Again? Already? What had she done or not done now? "Weren't you supposed to take something out?" asked Caramel Carol. Carol suddenly realized that her hand had returned to Blaine's crotch. She felt the underlying cock twitch and her hand offered an involuntary squeeze of acknowledgement. "Look," Blaine said, finally speaking, "I'll give you a pass this time because of your inebriated state, but please try to keep up. There will be no punishment for your failure, but just this once. In future, you won't be spanked...at least not until my slacks dry," Blaine said, but with a stern look rather than a smile. Future failures will cost you an item of clothing. Do you understand?" Carol nodded. "Good," Blaine continued. "Now get your hand off my cock. Clearly you're not ready for that yet." Carol quickly removed her hand, placing it in her lap with the other one. "Get it," Blaine ordered, turning to Caramel Carol and holding out his hand. Caramel Carol quickly rifled through her purse, pulled out an egg, and handed it to Blaine. It finally dawned on Carol that Blaine was the true leader of this duo. She'd figured he just went along with whatever Caramel Carol wanted so he could score some free pussy. "Do you have one of these?" Blaine asked Carol, showing her the egg in the palm of his hand. "I'm not sure," she answered. "What is it?" "Being inane won't help your cause Carol," Blaine cautioned. "If you don't know what it is, what are the chances you'd have one? So when I asked if you had one, a simple "no" would have answered the question AND saved all of us time. Do you think you could do that Carol? Do you think you could stop wasting my time?" "I'll try," Carol murmured, eyes fixed on the hands folded in her lap. "Who are you, fucking Yoda?" Caramel Carol snapped, assuming the role of Blaine's enforcer, slapping the table so hard it frightened Carol. "He doesn't give a shit about you trying. He wants to hear "Yes Sir!" Got that? Is that too much to fucking ask?" "She's new," Blaine said gently, touching Caramel Carol on the arm, assuming the role of Carol's protector. "That word will come when she's ready." Blaine took Carol's hand and placed the egg in it. It was hard plastic, heavier than Carol had expected. Suddenly it buzzed, startling Carol. The vibration caused her to yank her hand away, dropping the egg shaped vibrator noisily to the table. Blaine scooped it up before it could roll off. "I know you're new," Blaine began softly, like a parent about to scold a child, "but you're going to have to start owning your actions. If that had fallen to the floor, the repercussions for you would have been severe." Carol's heart was pounding as Blaine took her hand and stroked it soothingly before placing the egg in it again. It buzzed again and Carol saw a smirking Caramel Carol holding the remote control. "Front or back?" Blaine asked Carol. "Pardon me?" Carol asked, perplexed yet again. These two were operating at a different level. "He wants to know if you prefer to put it in the back door or the front," Caramel Carol said by way of explanation. "You want to put that in me?" Carol gasped. "And I was worried you wouldn't be a quick study," Caramel Carol mocked. "That's not going in me," Carol said quickly, then covered her mouth with her hand when she remembered whom she was addressing. "Skirt or blouse?" Blaine asked as Carol listened in horror. "No, please," Carol begged when she understood what Blaine wanted. "It was a slip. I didn't realize what I was saying. I say things like that to my boyfriend all the time. Please...Sir." She offered Blaine a term of respect hoping to dissuade him from ordering her to strip. "Skirt, blouse, or both?" Blaine asked again, adding a third choice to let Carol know the urgency that she answer lest Blaine add another, even less desirable selection to the menu. "Blouse." Carol answered, but too quickly. "No, skirt!" Carol practically shouted when she realized she hadn't worn a bra. "Take off her blouse," Blaine ordered Caramel Carol. Carol bowed her head, closed her eyes, and waited. Soon enough, she felt Caramel Carol's fingers undoing the buttons of her blouse. Carol bit her lip as passion flared within her. She so both wanted this and didn't want it. Had she been more able to control herself, less aroused, she would have gotten up and walked out. Of that she was certain. But she wasn't in control. Blaine was. Had she ceded dominion over her body or had he taken it? At this point, did it really matter? Carol found herself shrugging her shoulders, lifting her arms, helping Caramel Carol disrobe her. Finally, she was sitting, naked from the waist up, in a public establishment, enjoying the tension in her nipples and her clit. Even her puckered anus seemed prepared to kiss something or someone. Or have someone kiss it. "And the skirt," Blaine added just as Carol had begun to relax and prepare herself for strangers viewing her humiliating nudity. Carol felt compelled to stand while Caramel Carol lowered her zipper and unhooked her clasp. She felt her skirt as it floated down her legs to the floor. She had wanted badly to protest, to secure an acknowledgement at least, that what was being asked of her was unusual in the extreme. Still, she understood Blaine's position. She had been behaving badly, disrespectfully even though his instructions had been clear. She was there voluntarily, had let him see her naked breasts, had let him fondle her, had let him spank her bare bottom. Most embarrassing of all, she had climaxed! From a spanking! She hadn't even known that was possible. She had known then that he had taken sexual control of her. She had inklings before when she lowered her arms at his urging and exposed herself, and the other things she had permitted. Now she was certain. A fantasy was coming true. Not exactly as she'd imagined it as she lay in bed sliding a dildo in and out hungrily. Never in a pub, never with a someone so young, never with a black. Now, however, all those things were making the reality so much more exciting than the fantasy. And there she stood in nothing but a pair of bikini panties and bejeweled sandals. "Look at me, Carol," Blaine's deep voice commanded. She complied. "Listen, we know you're not perfect," Blaine purred like a dozing cat, calming the pretty mum. "Sooner or later, you're going to fuck up again and lose those panties. Why not just drop them now? You won't have to spend half you time worrying you'll do something to lose them, knowing that, ironically, it would be the worry that caused me to force their removal earlier than you would have were you more worry free. "Yes, you'll have an initial period of humiliation at being fully naked, but that will pass and you'll feel the better for it. You'll feel more relaxed, better able to enjoy, as best you can, what is to follow with one less indignity to endure." She knew Blaine was right. As she pushed her knickers over her hips, she knew she had been literally talked right out of her panties. And, remarkably, she did feel better as she reveled in her nakedness. "Sit down, Carol," Blaine ordered. "Now, don't you feel better?" "A little I guess," she answered even though she was more nervous than she could ever remember. She and her boyfriend had been in that pub several times. She was known there by some. What if one of them stumbled upon her in her present state? How would she ever explain herself? "Nervous? Blaine asked like some precocious psychic, continuing his line of questioning. She nodded her head. "Excited?" Carol nodded again. "I can't hear you when you nod," Blaine said. Carol panicked. He wouldn't make her confess her arousal aloud would he? It was one thing for her to find the situation made her wet, but another thing entirely for her to have to admit her arousal to the young couple. Even if they suspected her of getting hot over what was being done to her, they would only suspect. They wouldn't know. Unless she told them. Then they would know her secret for certain and she would know abject humiliation. "I can't hear you," Blaine stated, impatiently tapping a riding crop against his leg. Where had that come from? Carol felt real fear. "Yes," Carol whispered. "Speak up," he commanded. "Yes," she answered with greater volume. "Yes what?" "Yes Sir," Carol told him, misinterpreting Blaine's meaning. "The sir is fine Carol but what are you saying yes to?" "Yes that I'm excited." "Why are you excited? What is exciting you?" "You," Carol groaned at having to admit something so intimate to these strangers. "What you're saying to me. What you're making me say." "Are you wet?" Blaine asked. Oh god, please don't make me say it Carol prayed in the instant before telling Blaine she was. "Show me," the black youth demanded. "How?" she asked. "Exactly how you imagine. Spread your legs, push your finger in, swirl it around, pull it out, and show it to me." Carol closed her eyes to shut out her embarrassment as she fingered herself while Blaine and Caramel Carol watched. She held up her middle finger so they could observe to goo glistening on it. "How does she taste?" Blaine asked Caramel Carol. Before Carol could react, Caramel Carol had licked her lips lasciviously and slurped Carol's upheld digit into her mouth. Now it was Carol's turn to watch and feel the delicious sensations of the dusky young woman simulating giving Carol's finger a blowjob. The feeling was incredibly sexy as Carol felt the soft, slick, oral organ in Caramel Carol's mouth lick and tease her. Carol felt her knees separating as if a pair of invisible hands were pushing them apart. "Not bad," Caramel Carol offered when she'd released Carol's sparkling clean digit, then licked her lips demonstratively again. Carol felt herself blushing again as her young masters discussed her in ways that were almost undiscussable, at least not in the company, male or female, Carol usually kept. While she was the topic of conversation, it was being held as if she weren't even there. "Now the egg," Blaine said, handing it to Carol. She curled her fingers around it and felt its heft once again. This time she didn't drop it when Caramel Carol buzzed her. "Would you prefer it in your cunt or your ass?" Blaine asked as nonchalantly as if they were discussing the weather. "My pussy I guess," Carol answered like she were too delicate a flower to utter a word as harsh as cunt. "You guess? Don't you know? Should I make the decision for you? You're going to lose my patience if I have to tell you everything," Blaine growled. "No...no..." Carol said, her voice trailing off. "I want it in my pussy." "Are you a slut, Carol?" Blaine asked, once again picking something out of the seeming blue. Carol froze yet again. How many times had this young black stud caught her so off guard that her brain momentarily seized? She'd never been asked that before. Ever. The problem was she didn't know the answer to the question. Well, that wasn't exactly true. She wasn't a slut, but the bigger question was, would she become a slut if the occasion arose? That was the question she couldn't answer. The best answer Carol could come up with was that she'd acted a little sluttily at times. She'd done some raunchy things like swallowing a man's spunk the first time she'd touched a cock. It had excited her so that now she greedily gulped down ejaculate nearly every time she offered her mouth for a man's climax. Did that make her a slut? Or, and she shivered even as she thought it, did tonguing a man's anus? Did that qualify her as a slut? Was there a difference between behaving in a slutty manner and being a slut? Fortunately, she didn't have to answer as Blaine asked a following question before she had a chance to answer the first one. Or at least it would have been fortunate had not the follow on been more troubling than the original. "Do you want to be my slut, Carol?" The second question made her shiver. It was much more difficult than the first because she knew its answer. Now that it had been asked, Carol realized she had known she would eagerly agree to be Blaine's slut if he asked ever since he pushed that curtain aside and entered that changing room. While Carol screwed up the courage to tell Blaine she wanted to be his slut, he had, once again, moved on. "I need another drink," he announced, moving his glass toward Carol. Carol made a move to summon the waitress. "No," Blaine said, lowering the hand Carol had raised, "you go get it." Instantly, Carol's heart was in her throat. Prior to that day, she had never appeared naked before strangers. Well, there was that time at university, but that was only once, and alcohol had been involved. Did Blaine seriously expect her to walk across the room starkers and place his order? In truth, no. He expected more. "Now, Carol," Blaine said sternly when she hesitated. And when she moved, he asked, "Aren't you forgetting something?" Blaine again handed Carol the egg. She was, by then, resigned to inserting it. Eager actually. Now, on the brink of actual insertion, Carol was suddenly full of questions. "Does the small end or large end go in first?" "Entirely up to you," Blaine answered. "Put it in sideways if you'd like," Caramel Carol added with a smirk. Carol spread her legs and began sliding the egg up and down her channel, lubricating it. When it felt slick enough, she began pushing it in, little end first. She only had to back off twice before it was sucked inward and Carol felt her labia closing behind it. "How far do I push it in?" she asked, her finger still in touch with the plastic. "As far as you can," Caramel Carol told her. "What if it gets stuck up there?" Carol wanted to know. "It won't get stuck," Caramel Carol offered. "Between gravity and your natural flow, it will come out." She added, "Eventually" but by that time Carol had already pushed the egg a full finger's length in, out of reach, causing Carol to wonder if she might have to go home with the egg inside. What if she were still doing her hen impression when she got home? What if her boyfriend wanted sex? What if he asked, "What's that, honey?" when he encountered the obstruction? "Oh nothing, just some vibrating egg some American kids put up there this afternoon. It'll come out...eventually." "Who did what?" "Well, I actually put it in but they wanted me to." Instinctively, Carol knew it was a conversation she didn't want to have. Carol also understood her penchant for engaging in ridiculous intra-cranial banter. Carol took Blaine's glass and began the most humiliating journey of her life. Not only was she bare ass naked, but Caramel Carol kept buzzing the egg she bore. "He'll have another Coke," Carol said like she wasn't standing nude, in a pub that wasn't designated as "clothing optional" harboring a vibrating egg. The bartender and waitress had watched her approach but for some reason said nothing about Carol's state of undress. He filled the glass and was about to hand it to her when it hit him. Fifty Shades of Black "Wait. Don't I know you?" It was the moment Carol had dreadied. She'd been found out. Her friends, her family, all would know how she'd let herself be humiliated. She'd have to defend herself and she knew she had no defense. She'd be known for the rest of her life as "Carol the Trollop." Just when it couldn't get any worse, it did. Caramel Carol blasted her with the egg. "Is that coming from you?" the waitress asked when she heard the faint buzzing. Not only would she forever bear that three word appelation but whenever anyone heard the term "Carol the Trollop," somebody would be duty bound to ask, "Isn't she the one that's addicted to those hands-free egg vibrators?" "It is you!" the bartender exclaimed. "I knew it! You're that actress. The pretty one!" And just like that, Carol was lifted from despair to elation. Despite being stark naked and humiliated beyond belief, Carol virtually skipped back to the booth. She had a huge grin as she placed Blaine's drink in front of him. "So, you like the egg, huh?" Blaine asked, hearing a buzzing coming from somewhere in Carol's abdomen and misinterpreting her glee. She was beyond hearing him though as the sweet the vibrations threatened to topple her. She had to lean on the table for support. Blaine watched her smile disappear as her eyes began to glaze. He witnessed her grip on the table tighten. He knew she was losing her ability to hold things together. She had to sit down. Then it was too late. "YESSSSSSSSSSSS!" Carol screamed as she embarked on her second orgasm of the afternoon. "OOOHHHHHHHHHH GODDDDDDDDDDD!" Even the bartender and waitress knew the pretty mum was lost in pleasure. "You're going to clean that seat when she leaves," the bartender threatened. "Fuck you," the waitress jabbed. Carol sat back, arms at her sides, nipples beginning to melt, body trembling as orgasmic aftershocks, brought on by Caramel Carol's short bursts of the egg's remote, wracked her body. "Mmmm," Carol purred as Caramel Carol used the power of the egg to bring her gently back to earth. "It's getting late. I think it's time for the question," Caramel Carol opined, looking at her watch. "Almost," Blaine answered, "she still has one task left to perform." "You're right...almost forgot. Time for you to take it out, Carol." Carol's will had long since been ceded to these two sexy souls. Besides, she really wanted to see Blaine's cock. She began groping his crotch again before lowering his zipper. She found no further barrier to breach, neither boxers nor briefs nor sling, when Carol inserted her hand into Blaine's pants. There was just that fabulous cock. She struggled but managed to pry it free. In the past, Carol had had difficulties releasing a penis from its socially necessary confinements. But those organs had all been erect. Blaine was completely flaccid. "What do you think of it?" Caramel Carol asked. "I can't believe how big it is. It's really big," Carol answered, grinning. "And black." "Get it hard," Caramel Carol told Carol. "You really won't believe it then." Caramel Carol had moved close to Carol, pressing her breasts against Carol's upper arm as Carol stroked the male member getting bigger with every caress. The two women were co-conspirators now, giggling like teenagers reading some particularly salacious passage of some racy novel, or fanning their faces as they spoke of what they'd like to do to some local hottie. Of course Caramel Carol recently was a teen while Carol mentally visited a long ago time. "Like that baby?" Caramel Carol asked Blaine as he reached his full extension. "Does she have a good stroke? Are her hands soft?" Blaine only groaned. Just then, the waitress reappeared. "What the fuck is that?" she gasped, pointing at Blaine's enormous, hard cock. "Shit, lady, you look like you've been around the block on any number of occasions. You've definitely been rode hard and put away wet more than frequently than Seabiscuit training for a match race. What the fuck do you think it is?" Caramel Carol answered. "B-but it's so big." "Course it's big. You think she came in here with us and pranced around naked for whatever you're probably getting at home? It takes a real cock to to give a man the attitude to command that kind of respect. What about you? You're probably interested in a little taste yourself, right?" "Well I...I..." "Go ahead, kiss it." Amazingly, the waitress did just that. She took a couple of steps forward, lowered her head, and kissed Blaine's cockhead. But, as she opened her lips, Caramel Carol grabbed her by the hair and pulled her back leaving her lips gulping at air, looking like a feeding guppy. "I said just a kiss you fucking cunt. There's no cocksucking until I say so. You in?" The waitress nodded, breathing through her still open mouth, lips still twitching involuntarily. "Okay, here's the question. Now Carol here is an admitted cocksucker. What about you?" Caramel Carol asked the waitress. Both mature women were now well beyond the niceties of polite society. The coarse language and debasing act being discussed no longer offended either of them. The worse the language, the more humiliating the act, the greater their arousal. So, finally, Caramel Carol asked her question. "You have a choice. You can either suck Blaine's cock or swallow his cum. Which do you choose. If you choose to swallow his cum, you won't get to suck his cock at all. The other one will suck him to the point of orgasm then let him shoot in your mouth. If you choose to suck his cock, he'll let you do it right up until he's ready to shoot his load, then he'll pull out of your mouth and shoot into the other's mouth. That's your choice. Pick." Both women picked sucking Blaine's cock. It was just so compelling, neither felt she would forgive herself if she didn't at least get the chance to have it in her mouth. "Told you!" Caramel Carol gloated, holding both her index fingers aloft and moving them up and down in a modified victory dance. "Stupid cunts," Blaine groused, tapping his riding crop against his leg menacingly. "You should have thought of that when you made the bet," Caramel Carol stated, thinking lustfully of the pounding ass-fuck she would be getting later that evening, her winnings from the bet. "Well, let's see," Caramel Carol continued, "Carol was with us first so she gets her choice. She'll suck Blaine until he's ready to cum then ol' guppy lips here will take over. But absolutely no cock sucking," Caramel Carol cautioned the waitress. "He'll finish himself off with his hand and shoot it into those guppy lips. Everybody know their role?" No one replied so Caramel Carol continued. "But first, we have a problem. Neither of you guessed the way Blaine wanted so now he has to ass fuck me tonight to pay off his bet. Losing doesn't please him. For that you both get spanked. Not so much, just ten swats each. With his crop. If you don't want to be spanked or don't believe you deserve your punishment, the time to speak is now." Neither woman spoke although it is reasonable to assume that neither believed she deserved a spanking. They were more than willing to bear the pain and humiliation in order to claim their big black cock prize. "Okay, you first, Carol," Caramel Carol said. "You're already naked. And try not to cream all over his pants this time." Carol lay over Blaine's knees. Her heart was pounding and her breathing shallow. She hoped she could obey Caramel Carol's command but knew she could offer no guarantees. Her pussy was already juicing badly despite the fact that she'd already cum twice that afternoon. Even the fear marauding around in her tummy at the very sight of the crop Blaine wielded did little to staunch her libido. It was over much quicker than she anticipated. Ten sharp, stinging swats and she was back on her feet, ass reddened, feeling almost as if it had been burned. Perhaps the running commentary Caramel Carol kept up as Blaine firmly paddled her bottom made the time pass more rapidly. "Carol there sure likes getting spanked," Caramel Carol said to the waitress. "Last time Blaine paddled her she actually came. Can you believe that? What about you? You like getting your ass smacked as much as she does? Ever cum just getting your bottom thumped?" The waitress offered nothing to the conversation Caramel Carol was having with herself. She just stood and stared while Carol's face flushed and her bottom glowed. The waitress had been spanked on more than one occasion and enjoyed offering her ass because the spanker invariable raised a raging erection as he dispensed her punishment. Those sessions were mostly role playing and while the slaps might sting on occasion, they were nothing compared to the punishment Carol had gotten at the hands of the strong black man and his riding crop. Now, it was her turn. Blaine grabbed the waitress's wrist and pulled her over his lap. He pulled up her short skirt and exposed her firm, ripe ass. She wore a thong and her plump, creamy cheeks would have spoken to any man. Blaine ran his hand gently over them. The waitress shuddered excitedly. The the crop replaced his hand and trepidation radiated from her stomach. The sound was so loud, the sting so sharp, the action so unexpected, the waitress screamed in genuine surprise and pain. Blaine hadn't taken her knickers down first as she had expected. Smacks two through four followed in rapid succession. Her ass began to glow. Blaine watched the buttocks redden as the blood rushed to the area under assault. He ran his hand gently over the tender flesh feeling its unnatural heat. "Nice and pink," Blaine said, almost softly, almost as if he were talking to himself. "Let's get those panties off so I can finish your spanking." The panties were dragged teasingly down her legs then placed in Blaine's pocket. The waitress would never see them again. The riding crop was wielded six more times staining her bottom a bright crimson. The waitress was near tears when she was finally released. Reflexively, she rubbed her bottom trying to soothe it. Carol saw how red the waitress's ass was and wondered if hers had been that bright. Positions changed and Carol found herself eagerly kneeling, placing her eyes level with that magnificent black cock. She grasped it with one hand and marveled that she couldn't encircle it completely. Her long, manicured fingers dwarfed her boyfriend's penis which rarely stiffened to the same degree as Blaine's even under her most loving lavings, not even at the point of ejaculation. Carol simply marveled at the weapon in her hand and began kissing it. The waitress watched, mouth agape, as Carol began fellating Blaine. In and out her head went, sometimes with the cock in her mouth, sometimes just dragging her lips and tongue across it. When the cock twitched, Carol's cunt matched it, secretly thrilled at her ability to cause a sexual response in a man like Blaine. She would willingly, gratefully give herself over to him sexually, such was his power over her. "Rim him," Caramel Carol ordered the waitress watching the erotic blowjob unfolding before her. "Pardon?" the waitress responded to the unexpected order. "You heard me, guppy lips," Caramel Carol grunted ominously. "Get in there and tongue his asshole." Grabbing the waitress by the hair, Caramel Carol pulled the waitress behind Blaine and down to her knees. Caramel Carol pushed the waitress's face against Blaine's crack. Caramel Carol finally released her when she brought her hands up to Blaine's meaty bottom, spread his cheeks apart, and snaked her tongue along Blaine's sphinctral ring. Carol continued to be lost in fellatio. All that was left for her to do was to was to bring about his climax, to feel his knees wobble as her mouth devoured him, to feel his cock discharge into her mouth, to feel his cum spurt its precious cargo, and spurt and spurt and spurt until he collapsed to the floor like Samson after a haircut. That's when it hit her. She had bargained away Blaine's delicious cum. She wouldn't be draining him. That privilege now belonged to the waitress, the bitch, the usurper. Carol wanted to scream, to demand that she be allowed to change her selection. Desperately, just as Blaine had known she would, the cum, not the cock, had become paramount. Carol transformed into a fanatical fellatrix. Her head became a blur as she mouth fucked the young stranger attempting to bring Blaine off. She knew that if she got him to the point of release there was a good chance Blaine wouldn't pull out. Carol had fucked and sucked enough men to know that once a man's release was upon him, all the king's horses and all the king's men wouldn't get his cock out of her mouth. Blaine didn't stand a chance against Carol's mouth. He didn't last long. A grunt, a groan, and a cock was ripped from her lips. Blaine fisted his cock and spun around. Caramel Carol again grabbed the waitress by her hair and positioned her face under Blaine's cock. Her mouth opened and her tongue lolled out. Carol didn't know whether she should take the waitress's place and begin licking Blaine's puckered brown bud now buried inside the crack facing her or move so she could watch Blaine ejaculate what rightfully should have been hers into someone else's mouth. Carol moved. The lure of his semen trumped her desire to rim him. Carol was still on her knees, watching Blaine pull at his cock when it happened. The first three spurts went directly into the waitress's gaping mouth. It wasn't until she gagged as creamy semen bounced against the back of her throat that she closed her mouth and took a blast on her face. Carol had never seen such an explosion in her life. Cum was flying everywhere, the waitress swallowing quickly then opening her mouth again just as quickly. Four more blasts found their target deep in her mouth and Blaine's eruption finally began to wane. Still, the white juice continued to flow from his cock. "Don't you fucking swallow, bitch," Caramel Carol growled when Blaine's flow finally slowed to a dribble. "You need to share." Caramel Carol pulled the waitress to her feet by her hair then locked her lips onto the waitress's. Caramel Carol's tongue forced it's way into the waitress's mouth slurping the creamy cum from its place clinging to the mature woman's tongue, teeth, cheeks, gums, and every nook and cranny in which it might be hiding. Caramel Carol made a display of her cum play, stringing the semen out and back into her devouring oral cavity before finally swallowing it in a wanton, lascivious, slutty display. Soon after her semenal snack, Caramel Carol and Blaine tucked away his deflated cock, settled the bill, and prepared to leave. Carol handed Caramel Carol her business card. "Please, please, have him call me." Caramel Carol grabbed Carol by the hair, twisted her head back and kissed her openly on the mouth. Carol's tongue desperately entered Caramel Carol's mouth seeking any remnants of cum that might have lingered there. With her free hand, Caramel Carol rubbed Carol's clitoris but just as Carol began to cum, Caramel Carol withdrew her mouth and her hand leaving Carol to finish herself off while the others watched. "Shit, baby," Caramel Carol said to Blaine while sliding her thumb across the card Carol had given her, "she's by far the best slut we've ever had. Maybe we should come back and visit her." And, as quickly as they'd entered Carol's life, the Americans were gone. It took Carol more than a month before she finally admitted to herself that Blaine was never coming back. Over the years following her "Blaine Afternoon," as she'd started referring to it to herself, Carol gave considerable thought to what animated her that day. The best she could come up with was that it had something to do with how she started. Carol was young; he was first. He was notorious. All her friends were so hot for him. "He'll only use you" her friends told her. Carol didn't answer except for her best friend. "He'll only use you," Helen told her. "I know," Carol answered. Their fortnight together as boyfriend and girlfriend was the shortest eternity of Carol's life. It lasted a moment. It lasted forever. He made her kneel. He held her head. She had to swallow. She realized her love of pleasing men that way.